


If You’re a Mind Reader, Cough Right Now.

by eagererudite



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2356115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eagererudite/pseuds/eagererudite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU prompt: Person A is thinking sexually graphic or generally odd thoughts and suddenly panics and thinks “If you’re a mind reader, cough right now.”</p><p>Person B coughs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You’re a Mind Reader, Cough Right Now.

Three days into semester.

Michael thought there was nothing worse than his pre-calc class he had last semester, then he got to world history. It was literally the same exact class he had been taught since he was six years old. The Greeks and Romans this, the Catholic Church that. So fucking boring, there was no way he would be paying attention. His pen cap is chewed to shreds. His notebook pages are already full of doodles. There is literally nothing else to do.

_Fuck really?_

Despite his time in the class has felt like an eternity, he had only been there 30 minutes.

_What can I do for the next 50 minutes. Two 25 minute halves. Just 5 minutes ten times. I got this._

 What in the world can he do to entertain himself until the professor either dies of old age or the class ends? He scans the room; what to do, what to do? Rating people and deciding if he’d do them or not seems like a solid way to pass time.

_No. Nope. Nah, eh maybe. Hell fucking no, no way in hell. Maybe. Yeah, she’s hot, He’s alright. Eh, probably not. Fuck yeah. Nope. Nope._

He reaches the new kid in school, some British kid with a giant nose. He’s pretty sure his name is Grant, Greg, or Gavin. Something stupid sounding in his accent that begins with a ‘G’. He transferred in at the beginning of semester, refusing to discuss why he transferred or why he picked here. Michael was always interested in the new kid, what his story was, where he’s from; never got around to talking to him though.

_Man, his nose is fucking huge! I wonder if he can see it or if it disappears like a normal nose does._

The British kid begins to quietly giggle.

_I wonder if he pokes people in the eye when he kisses them. His hair is such a mess. He’s always scruffy too; bet that shit would scratch up my face. He’s slender though, nicely built. Hmm. You know what? Yeah, I’d like to bend him over a table and take him._

The British kid stiffens and begins to blush.

_I wonder what he’s into. He seems like a handcuffs kinda guy._

Suddenly aware of the path his thoughts are turning down, he begins to worry.

_Hello? Anyone able to read my thoughts? Cough if you can hear me. If you’re a mind reader, cough right now._

The British kid coughs ever so lightly and Michael freezes, panicking.

_Oh fuck, what if that wasn’t a coincidence. What if Grant actually is a mind reader? What if he heard me say I’d like to bend him over a table? Fuck. No shut up. Don’t be stupid. Mind reading isn’t real. Shit’s a super power and nobody has those._

Michael convinces himself to try and pay attention for the rest of the lecture as the professor yaps on and on about something to do with Athens. Michael is able to focus for all of maybe 15 minutes before he finds his eyelids heavy and his neck weak.

Giving up, Michael folds his arms and drifts off to sleep.

The lesson continues on without him, but Michael really doesn’t give a shit. As the period comes to an end, Michael is still asleep. The British boy walks over to him and gentle shakes his shoulder, “Michael, Michael wake up” he coos. Michael’s eyes flicker open, surprised to see Greg standing over him.

“Oh shit, guess I dozed off.” He says rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, you did.” The new kid hands Michael a note, smiles, and walks out of class.

_My name is GAVIN. Not Greg, Grant, or any other bloody stupid name. For the record, I can see past my nose just fine. And it pokes people in the eye as frequently as you and your button nose. Plus, I’d rather have messy hair and be scruffy then be baby faced with a ginger fro, although it does look good on you. Text me on my American number sometime 848-962-4587 :)_

_p.s. I’m not a bottom but I’d love to see you bent over my kitchen table, so text me soon_


End file.
